


Coronation

by Phiso



Category: CLAMP - Works, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles
Genre: Gen, also on ff.net, saved from LJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-26
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:29:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phiso/pseuds/Phiso
Summary: Tomoyo always knew that there was a chance she would be crowned Empress of Nihon one day. She had just always hoped Kurogane would be there with her when it happened.





	Coronation

**Author's Note:**

> Copied from my LJ, where I posted it after copying it from my ff.net account.

 

" _Je vous en prie Seigneur aidez nous , nous sommes trop jeunes pour regner!"*_

**\--Louis XVI et Marie-Antoinette**

 

It was a day she would never forget. The sun was setting, an enormous yellow disk in a sky as brilliant a crimson as the banners fluttering in the wind. Flower petals fell down like silky rain, brushing her face softly as they wished her good fortune. Dainty flutes and gleaming horns played their joy, harmonizing with the cheers of the people below her, filling the space in the courtyard before her and appearing like a strange lake, a flesh-colored sea trapped within borders of splendidly decorated stone pillars and ribbon. Love radiated from everyone like the warmth of day, filling her heart and celebrating her destiny, oblivious to the incoming night chill and the darkness beginning to overtake them. Endless days of planning had finally led to this moment, a moment desired by all but the one accepting its consequences.

A young woman sat regally in her new throne, hidden in the shadows, awaiting her entrance and feigning interest in the speeches being given in honor of her and her family. Nearby guards marveled over her porcelain skin, her silky raven locks shining in the dying daylight, her amethyst eyes looking modestly into her lap like the perfect model of decorum. She was the glowing moon, so radiant no one could touch her, banishing the fires of day and bringing upon them a calm night of rest. No one saw her hands clenched tightly in her lap, her knuckles white and her nails cutting into her palms; no one noticed the look of terror, of remorse, and of unbearable sorrow reflected in those eyes so well averted. Why would they? It was the night of her coronation, the day she would officially become Empress of Nihon. She should be thrilled. Never mind it was only a few weeks after her sister's funeral.

The man speaking was taking a blessedly long time, the Tsukiyomi noticed, but her people, in their love, didn't seem to mind. They were the perfect audience, cheering at all the right moments and listening eagerly when it was required of them to be silent. Tomoyo managed a small smile; at least she would have support in her country. Not all empresses were so lucky; biting her lip, she knew she wouldn't be as well-received everywhere. Other countries, ruled by male emperors full of bravado and sexist to the core, had given Nihon a hard time at first whilst under Kendappa's rule; young, beautiful, and single, the men had assumed she would be easy to swoon and therefore pliable and weak. They would be no different when they approached her. Before, however, they had made a grave mistake; Kendappa proved to be an even more aggressive and efficient ruler than her father before her, harnessing and utilizing her fiery ambitions to bring Nihon to a new level of prosperity never seen before. Tomoyo could only hope to replicate the success her sister had brought to their land.

She looked up into the sky, her thoughts both rushing by her and sluggishly refusing to leave. The sun continued to set, as if bored by the orator's words, and the stars were beginning to come out, smothering the country in a soft indigo blanket littered with jewels. One star, Tomoyo saw with surprise, wavered for a moment before falling; it fell beautifully, tragically, like a tear crossing an otherwise flawless face, reminding her of burden carried by Kendappa when she was alive and warning her of what was to come.

Despite all her triumphs, Tomoyo could see what the title Amaterasu was doing to her dear sister. Kendappa had inherited the throne at the early age of twenty, thrown off by the death of her beloved parents and the immense responsibility of caring not only for her younger sister but her country as well. _Duty comes before self_ : the unspoken law was known by all royalty, and none practiced it with as much scrutiny as Kendappa. It pained Tomoyo to watch her elder sister struggle with perverted diplomats who would rather shoot the Empress sleazy looks than discuss treaties; to battle against miles upon miles of opposing armies and legions of demons; and, worst of all, to deny herself of her most beloved person by assigning her to guard the Tsukiyomi. While she kept her smiles and her laughter on her sleeve in order to reassure the young princess, Tomoyo knew better; she could see all too well the ache in her sister's eyes.

Another flower petal brushed her face and landed on her lap; Tomoyo picked it up gently, noticing its soft perfume not for the first time. The creamy white lotus had been chosen in hopes of bringing the new Empress a higher sense of enlightenment for her upcoming rule as well as serving as a secret reminder of her duty to remain pure, virtuous, and beautiful before her people. Her eyes scanning the courtyard, the crowd began to blur with the sky above, giving the pillars around them the appearance of a cage, the blossoms and starts giving the new bars a strange sort of luster. Feeling unusually claustrophobic, Tomoyo lent back a bit farther in her chair, a vision of one of her doppelgangers sitting in a birdcage vivid in her mind; she closed her eyes, hoping to banish the frightening memory. Would that be her fate in the end?

Tomoyo shook her head, wishing to pull herself back into the safe recesses of her reminiscences. As she grew older, Kendappa allotted Tomoyo more and more influence in the palace, recognizing her younger sister's intelligence and power and placing her faith in her blood. Nothing proved too difficult to handle for the pair; the country continued to prosper, Amaterasu working diligently to protect Nihon from human invaders and Tsukiyomi keeping a watchful sentinel against demonic plagues. The people loved their rulers, regarding them goddesses, and they enjoyed a rule with an amazingly clean domestic relations record.

It had been a three months after Tomoyo's sixteenth birthday that everything changed. A war had broken out against a neighboring country in the outskirts of one of Nihon's bordering provinces, and Kendappa had gone out to quell the fighting. She succeeded in leading the army into victory, but not before suffering a fatal wound to her abdomen.

A word from the speaker suddenly thrust Tomoyo into the present, causing her to abruptly sit up straighter and a flash of fear to cross her dark eyes. Was it time? The sudden attentiveness lasted only momentarily; he had merely mentioned Tomoyo's previous role in the palace, and was now describing it at length, apparently enjoying the sound of his own voice. Sighing, she leaned back in the throne, a wave of exhaustion and a dull sense of sorrow permeating her being. Closing her eyes once again, her brow furrowed slightly as her memories rushed back with the rush of the chill night wind - memories of a long procession clad in white marching down the streets; of a fire larger than she had ever seen consuming first the bodies of her parents, then of her sister; the immense weight of realizing she was alone in this world settling down on her shoulders…She bit her tongue to keep from crying out; a scream she had held in since she had learned of the death of her sister threatened to tear through her and rip her body in half, shattering her into pieces. She could not show weakness before her people, not when they were so supportive of her, singing her praises and celebrating her wisdom. She couldn't allow herself to cry before them.

" _ **Tomoyo-chan, don't cry…"**_

She wouldn't.

" _ **Promise me you won't cry. You have to be strong for your people."**_

She couldn't cry, she promised, she had promised, _promised_ her people, her sister -

_Onee-chan…_

She gasped quietly, a hand fluttering to her chest as she struggled to maintain a calm disposition. Her head spun, and her throat burned and throbbed as a lump grew, making it difficult to swallow; her eyes blinked rapidly, keeping back their own falling stars. The once sweet smell of the lotus blossom now felt stifling; she felt trapped, chained to her throne by her duty and promises, all too aware of the thousands of eyes watching her frail form for guidance.

Somehow in midst of all this, somewhere between the sobs that threatened to overcome her, unshed since the night of her sister's death, and the resolute will she had to keep them down, she heard a voice in the back of her head, a voice she hadn't heard in years, not since she had banished it in hopes of denying the inevitable and improving the invincible. It was an angry yell, directed at her with all the fury of the universe, and yet every time she remembered his words it brought a warmth and serenity to her heart she missed dearly.

" ** _I'll be back, and don't you forget it!"_ **

For one short-lived second, she allowed herself a small chuckle. His fury had always amused her, somehow; even in memory, she felt a strange desire to provoke him, just to see him explode. He was always the most volatile of the ninja, but, she thought with a small, sad smile, he was also the most loyal.

_Oh, Kurogane…_

Tomoyo's expression crumpled briefly, fighting to keep the flood of tears locked inside. Kendappa, she had known, was unlikely to produce an heir anytime soon no matter how strong her sense of duty was; as such, Tomoyo had always been prepared to replace her sister in the event that anything should happen to her. She just had expected _him_ to be standing next to her the moment the imperial crown was placed on her head.

In the past, he had always there, protecting her and guarding her with more devotion than she would have thought it possible for a person to possess. His sword was hers, forged in the image of his fathers and laced with the magic of her house; he swore upon it his life, pledging to do anything and everything he could for her, from bringing her a cup of tea late at night to preventing the countless attempts on her life. His smiles were rare and the sound of his laughter even more so, but she felt a sense of security at his side she knew she would never find anywhere else. He had promised her to be there for her as long as he drew breath, and she had sent him away.

She knew from her divinations that his journey would be long, and her heart told her it was necessary for him to take it; nevertheless, that didn't keep her from wishing that he be done with it already and come back home. She needed him, now more than any other time in her life – she needed his reassuring looks, his utmost confidence in her abilities, his shielding hand guiding her to her place. She hadn't realized how much she had relied on him until he was gone; simply remembering what she had done tore yet another hole in her already bleeding heart.

How could she do this without him at her side? How could she, a mere sixteen year old, a full four years younger than her sister when she had inherited the throne, rule such a large country by herself? She did not possess Kendappa's spirit; she was gentle, she was quiet. Already there was talk of emperors wishing to prove their masculinity by invading her territory and declaring war on her people, a terrifying prospect that haunted her dreams at night. How could she protect so many from so much by herself and survive?

"Now, I present to you, your future Empress…"

Tomoyo started again as she recognized the cue, a renewed fear striking her heart with such force it took her breath away. Dizzy, anxious, and trembling, Tomoyo slowly rose, licking her lips before inhaling deeply. It didn't matter how badly she wanted him here, to feel his presence as her future changed before her eyes; she had a duty to uphold, and she would not allow herself to shirk it at any costs, no matter how much her heart desired it.

Composing herself, she walked gracefully towards the head of the balcony, her feet and hands feeling unusually heavy as she discreetly wiped her sweaty palms within the large ornate sleeves of her dress. Careful to appear as regal as she could, Tomoyo unwillingly went through the steps necessary of her to complete the coronation ceremony, swallowing her tears before they had the chance to flaunt their victory, her heart beating so rapidly shooting pains ran down her arms and making them prickle like pins.

When it came time to be crowned, Tomoyo looked out into the audience, smiling nervously despite the urge to weep. It didn't matter how many people were out there or what she told herself; as a child of the palace she had been raised in a very lonely home, and as such dedicated herself to her cherished ones as much as she possibly could, pouring her soul into caring for them and showering them with her love and concern. And now, they were all gone – everyone she had treasured the most, her most precious family and protector, out of reach and out of sight, perhaps never to be seen again.

Suddenly she spotted a familiar flash in the corner of the crowd, a dark skin covered by the harsh leather of a warrior; her heart raced, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her. Was that him?

No; she could see now that it was Souma, checking one of the security posts before moving on to the next. As she watched the dark woman weave her way through the crowd, the traditional prayer for the long life of the new royalty being recited over her head, a strange feeling gave birth in her chest.

" ** _If in a dream, you meet Tomoyo-hime again, tell her that I will go back no matter what."_**

As the light weight of the ornamental crown graced her head and the night falling down upon her twinkled its approval, she felt something tug at her soul; a distant connection, but one she would never forget or let die. Closing her eyes, she could almost imagine him there, a grim expression on his face but his eyes betraying his joy, surveying her with pride before barking at an idle guard to return to his post. She felt the ghost of a squeeze embrace her hand, reassuring her as he used to when they were young, naïve, innocent and afraid.

_Kurogane…_

A breeze, warmer than any other experienced that night, gently blew across the square as the crowd roared its consent, stroking her cheek and feeling like the warm embrace of an encouraging friend. It fluttered her dress and played with her hair, making it appear as if the Gods themselves were celebrating her coronation, making her look like an angel gracing the earth with her presence. The roar grew louder, but somehow she swore she heard the whisper of words on the wind, a familiar voice brushing by her ears.

_**Tomoyo-hime…** _

Standing up straighter and with a new authority, Tomoyo surveyed her people from her perch on the balcony, a small smile slowly forming on her lips. Perhaps this wasn't the destiny she would have chosen for herself, but in the grand scheme of things her thoughts didn't matter; what would matter were her choices, her decisions as Empress, and their effects on her nation. No one would remember what she wanted once she was gone; they would remember what she did, and she wanted them to remember something great; something quiet and in her fashion, of course, but legendary nonetheless. She didn't want to disappoint her people or her family.

But funnily enough, as her determination grew and her adoration for her country's citizens resurfaced, she realized that, out of everyone, she didn't want to disappoint Kurogane the most. She wanted to deserve his devotion, his belief in her; to fail, in her mind, was not an option. She did not want to see the look in his eyes as he realized he had misplaced his faith; she simply refused to let that happen. She didn't think she would be able to handle it, another treasure lost.

And so, she would rule, despite him and yet for him, all at once.

**Author's Note:**

> The French translates to, "Please Lord help us, for we are too young to rule!"


End file.
